Derranged
by MisterCam8213
Summary: What if Mal, Carlos, Evie, and Jay never got the opportunity to leave the Isle of the Lost? What would the further years of abuse turn them all into?
1. Chapter 1- Mal's Lament

"Derranged"

By Shawn Campbell

Chapter One: Mal's Lament

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me.  
Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

It was all a dream; an elaborate pipe dream that Mal's erratic mind had conjured to escape the dismal existence that she was forced to experience day in and day out. She had no Prince Ben here, no Auradon Prep, no bright smiles. Prince Ben never became a king that decided to let her and her friends out of the terrible Isle and she never fell in love with him. In reality, she had never even seen him. She just imagined how he would look, how he would smell, and how sweetly his lips would taste.

She had created this fantasy when she was fifteen, celebrating her fifteenth birthday in the dungeon beneath Maleficent's makeshift castle. With tears streaming down her grime covered cheeks, she unconsciously began to weave a new fairy tale- one where she actually had friends again like when she was ten. Those were better days for Mal. She had hung out with Evie, daughter of Evil Queen Grimhilde, Jay, son of Jafar, and Carlos, son of Cruella DeVill.

Maleficent had been in an unusually foul mood that day and when she found Mal playing at by the Isle of the Lost's shore. Upon seeing the children happy at play, she had flown into a rage. Mal and her friends were not disturbing anyone, just skipping rocks along the waters of the island trying to make it to the invisible barrier that separated the island's boundaries from the rest of the world. When a rock made contact with the barrier, it sent small ripples of bright orange shockwaves throughout the dome. With the Isle's dreary atmosphere and boring, beige buildings, this private light show of theirs was the closest to fireworks as they were ever going to get or could even fathom how fireworks looked.

Perhaps Maleficent was angry that none of her adult friends wanted to be anywhere near her. Perhaps she was lamenting her exile on the island and the ripples in the dome reminded her of how she was trapped there. Maybe she was angry that Mal was happier playing with rocks that she personally could ever be on that cursed Isle.

Whatever the rhyme or reason, Maleficent screeched and rushed down to pull Mal away. With surprise and terror, Mal turned to face her mom's gritted, yellowing teeth and gaunt greenish skinned features. She yanked at Mal's arm so hard that an audible pop was heard and her friend's faces turned pale as they realized that Maleficent had dislocated Mal's arm. Mal cried out in pain and Maleficent slapped her across her face for her troubles.

"Shut up you little beast or I'll give you something to cry about!" hissed Maleficent as she dragged her daughter away from the shore with only the strength that a frenzy could have supplied her.

The last Mal ever saw of her friends through tears and blurred visions was that day at the shore. She replayed the event in her head often as she sat through punishment after punishment from her mother. She was her mother's own personally voodoo doll. It was if hurting Mal would somehow hurt everyone that had ever wronged her. She seared burn marks onto Mal's arms, smiling as she pictured King Adam's arms stinging with the pain. She stripped her daughter bare and lashed out at her with a whip, taking delight in picturing the marks appearing in sequence along Princess Aurora's back. Mal had long since stopped trying to reason with her mother. Any attempts to appeal to Maleficent's logic resulted in a thick cloth gag being tied through Mal's mouth and an increase in the ferocity of the attacks.

Every birthday since age 10 has been spent in this wretched cell, Mal's wrists shackled above her. She turned 19 today, but only the rats were in attendance to witness the event. Unbeknownst to Maleficent, Mal had long since worked the chains out of their bolt in the ceiling. Every time her mother brought her down and locked her up, she waited until her mother was gone and then easily popped out the bolt from the stone hole. She would occupy her time in the cell pacing around and doing a few workouts to keep herself fit, though her limited food supply could only do so much.

It was only when she heard her mother coming did she work the bolt back into the hole and pretend to be helpless. She was sure that her mother would be furious to see that Mal wasn't suffering as much as she was capable of, but Mal was, though not fully aware of, reaching her last straw with her mother.

At times, Mal feared that she was responsible for everything, irrationally thinking that she had done something wrong every time she was punished and deserved it. These years in the dungeon had eventually forced her to think otherwise. Her mother was mad, deranged. The Isle of the Lost was not a rehabilitation center, nor is it an intensive care unit of a mental hospital. The villains and their unfortunate offspring have been thrown in a pit of hell, fighting over meager supplies sent over from the mainland. No one is offered sanctuary, nor are their pleas for mercy heard. The inmates of this prison become more dangerous and mad over time until they are only broken shadows of their former selves. Mal thought that if the mainlanders had any gumption, or any sense of decency, they would have just killed all the villains in one fell swoop. They could have done it easily, just stop sending food and let the whole island starve. Then again, Maleficent would probably end up doing that to Mal. She was keeping her in the dungeon for longer and longer periods. Was she even aware she was doing this at this point?


	2. Chapter 2- Flight

"Derranged"

"I know it's time to say goodbye  
So hard to let go"

Chapter 2: Flight

The door slammed overhead. Mal stopped pacing. Quickly and silently, she rushed over to the wall and clamped the shackles over her wrists. She jammed the bolt back into the stone and lowered her head. The beam of firelight illuminated the top of the dungeon and a dark figure stood at the top of the stone stairs.

"Enjoying yourself, you ugly beast?" slurred Maleficent from the top of the stairs.

"About as much as you're enjoying that drink, Mother?" asked Mal quietly.

"What did you just say to me?" hissed her mother, stumbling down the stairs.

Mal could tell that her mother had been drinking again. She usually poisoned herself with the cheap fermented liquor that she bartered off the Goblins running the barge from the mainland. It was nasty and had particularly unpleasant after effects, but her mother was beginning to give up home that she'd ever find a way out of this dome. The drink may not have solved her problems, but it kept her from caring about it. Mal was this tiniest bit relived that her mother seemed to favor the bottle more than she favored beating her daughter. This still didn't stop her mother from remembering which day of the year it was. Mal's birthday brought about specific painful memories to Maleficient that she deemed hurting Mal was the only way to keep them at bay.

Or perhaps she was just an usually cruel cretin, thought Mal.

"I don't take sarcasm from anyone…not Princess Aurora, not King Ben or his whore…" she said stumbling. She held up her hand to strike Mal, but this time, Mal instinctively kicked out with her feet and drove them deep into Maleficient's chest. Maleficent, all the air driven out from her lungs, gasped and waved frantically to stop from falling. She tripped over her own tattered, flowing black robes and tumbled backwards. The back of her head made contact with the edge of the stone steps. There was a sickening smack as the edge drove though the back of her head and cracked the back of her skull. As she reached a trembling hand to the back of her head, she drew back large amounts of crimson liquid. Her mouth opened and closed, lips quivering as she struggled to make sense of the situation.

Mal's eyes grew wide and she ripped the chains from the celing.

"Mother! Oh God, Mother!" she cried as she ran over to Maleficent. She uncuffed herself and held Maleficient. Her mother's eyes grew hazy as the gravity of the situation was pressing down on her.

"You…you…" sputtered Maleficient as her eyes glazed over.

"What, mother? What?" asked Mal, giving her mom a hard shake.

"You…are such a disappointment…" whispered Maleficent as her lights faded out and she died, powerless and pitifully.

Mal began to hyperventilate.

"No…no..no!" she kept repeating as she got up from the corpse beneath her. What would she do? Where would she go? Maleficent isn't the powerful evil queen she used to be, but she matters on this island! People would know she went missing! What would they do to the one responsible? Would she become famous? Would people seek to destroy her and take Maleficient's castle for themselves?

No…no…no!

She must flee! Get away…far away. As far away on the island as she could go!

Without missing a beat, she ran upstairs to grab anything she could carry on the way. She looked down to the tattered brown rags that her mother had reduced her to. She quickly stripped herself of the rags and ran to the kitched to look for a pail of water to wash the blood out of her hands. She found nothing of any use except for the bottles of alcohol that he mother kept in the cupboard. They would have to do. She poured the stinging liquid onto her hands and scrubbed them vigorously. She looked in the cracked mirror to notice any trace of blood on her.

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she rushed upstairs to see if any of her old clothes still fit. After a quick search, she donned faded lime jeans, a white t-shirt and a dark purple jacket. She tied her dark purple hair into a ponytail and hid most of it under a solid black beanie with a hole in the side. Not exactly conspicuous, but they were the only clothes that would fit. She exited out of the back door of her house and fled into the woods.


	3. Chapter 3- Through the Woods

Derranged

"If only I could read the signs in front of me  
I could find the way to who I'm meant to be"

Chapter 3: Through the woods

No water. No food. Slim chance of survival on the run. The imperial guards would be chasing her soon.

When King Adam retired from the public eye after a nasty scandal involving Princess Jasmine and Princess Cinderella, he quickened the coronation of his son, Prince Ben. Now that all of Aurodon's attention was on Aurodon's favorite son, King Adam could retreat to lick his wounds in secrecy.

King Ben's first order of business was to determine the state of things on the Isle of the Lost. He created a special elite unit of guards to police Aurodon's laws on the Isle until he could make sense of the current state of things. As if things weren't hard enough with poverty and hopelessness of any sense of proper living, the criminals that lashed out their fury on eachother would now be forced to suffer in silence. The Imperial guards were comprised of soldiers from each division of Aurodon and were properly trained to detain and punish the Isle's reprobates with extreme prejudice. The murder of Maleficient would definitely reach the ears of the Guards and Mal would be found and brought to justice. Jafar had his hands removed after the Guards discovered his treasure trove of stolen items. Queen Grimhilde was flogged publically after she was seen illegally importing beauty products from the mainland. Ursula was beheaded after two of the people she was holding captive died from dehydration. Cruella hadn't been seen for years and the guards had no reason to inquire into her further.

With the main villains of the island subdued and punished, the lower tier villains in line and obeyed the rules. When the goblins of the island stopped by the castle to see Maleficient and bring her supplies, they were going to know something was wrong. Mal did not have the supplies or ability to dispose of the body or erase all traces of the crime. Someone would know what she did and she would die because of it. That would be a sorry, petty end to a girl whose life had been one long torture session with only brief, miniscule shreds of happiness.

Despite all of the odds stacked against her, she continued to run. There must be SOMEWHERE she could go.

Through the chill and the sudden rainstorm that somehow penetrated the dome's protective barrier, Mal fought her way through the bushes and brush of the forest until she could make out a tall, looming structure in the distance. She brushed the water from her eyes and squinted. It was a house. A large, three structure Victorian house with spiked steeples and an ominous window in the center of the tallest, middle peak. The house was surrounded by a stone wall and iron bars. Mal could make out the name above the middle gate. "DeVill".

Carlos! This was Carlos's house! He would help her!

Mal rushed over to the gate and searched for a way to open it. It wasn't locked, nor was it chained up. Alas, it would not budge open at all. Mal cursed. She had been running for hours and was in desperate need of food, clothing, and shelter. The Imperial Guards would be on her any minute, and she would not stand a chance, especially from Razul's son, Fazhal. He was particularly viscious and once he was on your trail, he would never stop. He seemed to take after his father, who made it his personal mission to catch and bring Aladdin to justice.

After giving up on the gate, Mal took a few steps back and made a running leap for the stone wall. She was able to clutch one of the top stones, but slipped off and fell a few feet onto the ground. She gritted her teeth and cursed, trying to surpress a sob. She shook off the pain and stepped even further back to get a running start. She was about to run when she saw a flicker of light in the upstairs window of the house. A tall, dark figure was pacing in the room. Mal could see the black and white hair sticking up from the back of that head and the long fur coat.

Cruella was active after all. Mal had figured that she died long ago, the rumors circulated throughout the island for years. No one had seen her in public for years.

Mal wondered if she would help her after all this time. Her and her mother weren't exactly friends, but what was there to lose?

Cruella could turn her over to the Imperial Guards. Carlos was her obedient son, though he received about as much abuse as Mal got from her own mother. Perhaps if she could get to Carlos, she would have a chance.

After two attempts, Mal was able to get a hold of the iron bars above the stone wall and pull herself up. She lept over the wall into Cruella's yard, which was littered with naked trees and barren gardens. It was less of a yard and more like a cemetery, thought Mal.

She figured knocking was going to alert Cruella, so she snuck around the house and tried to see if Carlos was in any of the rooms. Window by window showed empty rooms until Mal happened upon the kitchen, where a meal of sandwiches and milk were on the table. Mal's stomach rumbled and she clutched it. She had not eaten for almost two days. Maleficent had neglected to feed her in the dungeon. When she fled, there was no edible food in the kitchen and no clean drinking water to take. The vile liquid was all that remained.

Mal abandoned her quest to find Carlos and chose to allow her primal instincts to take over. The meal in the kitchen was now her goal. She gingerly slid open the window and climbed inside. When she swung her legs over and placed her feet to the floor. She removed her tattered tennis shoes and set them aside. One step at a time, she inched closer and closer to the meal in front of her. She was so concerned with sustenance that she forgot to close the window. A strong gust of wind blew through the window and the candelabra on the table fell over with a loud clang. Mal froze in terror. Footsteps sounded overhead and scuffling was heard as a figure rushed down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mal was terrified to turn around, but she did so slowly.


	4. Chapter 4- Carlos

"Derranged"

"Every step, every word  
With every hour I am falling in"

Chapter 4: Carlos

"Who goes there?" asked the figure in an authoritative tone.

Mal breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Cruella! Years of growth strained the voice, but Mal remembered it.

"It's me, Mal." She said softly to the figure.

Carlos lowered the fireplace poker in his hand and stood in amazement.

"Mal?" he asked, finding it hard to believe that she was in this room with him.

He was clad in dark trousers and a solid black button down shirt. His white hair was slicked back and he now wore an astonished look upon his face. His dark eyes seemed to glow as he began to smile.

"It's been too long," he said last, "I still remember that day at the shore. I swear I tried to visit you, but your mother…" he trailed off at the last part.

"I can only imagine what she said and/or did to you when you came over. Did she scar you mentally, or just physically?" asked Mal.

"Luckily for her, just mentally. If Mother knew what she threatened…" Carlos trailed off.

His smile faded from his face.

"You have to get out of here before Mother finds you. She…hasn't been herself ever since she got stranded on this island and she's only gotten worse. Quick! Follow me!" he whispered to Mal. As he led her away by the hand, he noticed her sad, desperate expression as her eyes followed the milk and sandwich fading from view. Carlos stopped. She was clearly upset, flustered, and she was hungry! He rushed over to the table and grabbed the plate and glass and motioned for Mal to follow him.

Carlos led Mal out of the back door of the house and into a makeshift shack in the outskirts of the seemingly endless back yard. Once inside the shack, Mal could see that they were at least a quarter of a mile outside the house. The house lights were the only lights in the distance, faint glows against the darkness.

Once inside and the door secured, Carlos handed the plate and glass to Mal, who happily dug into her food. The bread was a bit stale and the milk was on it's last day of freshness, but she didn't mind at all. If she was offered more, she would have happily accepted. As she ate, she looked around Carlos's shack. She surmised that this structure was a makeshift garage for Cruella's car. She supposed that Cruella made this shack for her car which would never make it back from Aurodon. Still, hope keeps even the most desperate of dreams alive. Maleficient kept Mal in a dungeon instead of a comfortable bedroom. It stood to reason that Cruella would exile her son from a big, warm house and keep him in the cold, dingy shack. The walls were cold and damp, a few furnishings made the place look the tiniest bit homey. He had a single, wobblily table that was most likely salvaged from the Isle junkyard, as were the chairs that they now sat in.

"You remind me of the dogs eating…" said Carlos softly.

Mal looked up at him, trying to decide if she should be offended by this remark. Seeing her expression, he clarified.

"What I m-m-m-meant is…most people eat with a look of disdain on their face, always wanting something better. Dogs happily accept what they get and they enjoy it so much. It's hearwarming to see." Carlos added quickly to improve his statement.

Mal gave him a small smile to show him that she accepted his addition. She could see he was nervous.

"Have you kept up with any of our friends in the past few years?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"No…ever since that day, Mother got ill. I think it was the Isle getting to her. I've had to wait on her, hand and foot. Every day she gets worse."

Mal frowned. She recognized that look of pitiful desperation and sorrow. She had seen it in her own face every time she looked into the mirror. She reached out and was about to touch his hand when she saw his hand contort into a tight fist.

"Sometimes…I wish I could just abandon that pitiful _hag_ and leave her to _rot"_ he said, gritting his teeth.

"What stops you?" inquired Mal. She had considered this many times. Every time her mother left her in the dungeon, every time she was whipped by her mother, every time she begged for mercy at her mother's hands.

"If you love someone, you can't do that to them…even if you hate them." He said, frowning and looking to the ground. "She's all I have."

"What about me?" asked Mal, "Jay, Evie…we could all run away together!"

"I'm stuck here, Mal," said Carlos softly, "I can no more escape my fate than you can escape yours."

Mal looked to the floor, trying to decide when to approach the subject of why she was there in the first place. If Carlos wasn't so desperate for company, Mal thought, he would have inquired further.

"Carlos…" asked Mal.

He perked up at Mal using his name.

"Yes, Mal?" he asked eagerly. He leaned towards the edge of his seat.

"Do you have running water at that big house? It's been months since I have had a decent bath."

Carlos gulped and shifted in his seat.

"Y-y-yes...we do. I have to pump it for a bit to get it to run for a while, but we have it…you-you would be welcome to use it…" he stuttered.

Mal smiled and rose from her seat.

"Don't worry about Mother. I'll check on her and make sure she's fast asleep. You can use the shower on the ground floor."

"I appreciate this, Carlos. I really do." Said Mal.

"Anything for you, M-Mal." Said Carlos, struggling to contain the raging emotions within him.

Mal bent over and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the shack towards the house.

Carlos, frozen in place, placed a hand to the cheek that was still warm from her perfectly curved lips. His eyes grew wide and he rushed out towards Mal.


	5. Chapter 5- Carlos Confounded

Derranged

Chapter 5: Carlos Confounded

"They think I'm callous  
A low-life hood  
I feel so useless  
Misunderstood"

Mal accepted the towel that Carlos provided her from the linen closet in the hallway.

"The bathroom is down the hall…last door on the left," said Carlos.

Mal saw Carlos rubbing his hands together as if washing them with imaginary soap. She suppressed a small chuckle. Carlos always did this when he was nervous. Mal ran her hand through her dirty, greasy purple hair and watched Carlos go a shade red. She couldn't imagine the last time that Carlos had anyone else in this house, particularly a girl. Then again, she couldn't remember the last time that she was in close proximity to a boy. The bit her bottom lip and continued to stare at Carlos. A bead of sweat formed at his brow as he continued to stare at her with those dark eyes.

"Carlos…" started Mal as she took a step closer to him, something primal taking control of her mind and clouding her senses. Carlos felt his face grow hotter and he began to feel dizzy as this stunningly attractive girl before him grew closer and he knew what she wanted. It was something he wanted for as long as he could remember.

Suddenly, Carlos turned behind him.

"I hear her waking up!" he hissed, clutching his face in his hands, "Quick…get in the shower and I'll meet you after. If she questions it, I'll say that I'm just getting the water ready for one."

Mal didn't hesitate. She clutched the towel and rushed toward the bathroom. Once she was in the bathroom, she turned the lock on the door for good measure.

Mal was nervous about Cruella waking up and finding her, but she was equally excited to have a proper shower. She couldn't remember the last time she had one properly. Showers were few and far between on the island, only existing in the more prominent villains' quarters. Maleficent had one, but had forbade Mal from ever using it. She didn't want to take a chance of Mal damaging it and denying her one of the only luxuries in this hellacious Isle.

She stripped herself of her clothes and proceeded to make the necessary pumps from the chrome lever on the wall in order to get the shower primed and ready to go. Once it had a steady stream and proper temperature, she got in and breathed a sigh of relief. It felt wonderful…more wonderful that anything she had felt in such a long time. She began to lather her body with the soap scrub, getting many weeks worth of dirt and grime off, enhancing the paleness of her skin. Her hair, once properly shampooed, was starting to get it's softness back in a way that made Mal smile. She was so preoccupied with her shower that she failed to notice the flicker of light beside the towel rack. A small hole had been bored into the center of the intricate patterns of the floral wallpaper. One would never notice such a thing if it hadn't been for the person on the other side removing the cover to the other side. The light illuminating the next room shined through the hole for just a brief moment before the space was darkened again by the eye of a voyeur. Someone was on the other side of the wall, watching Mal intently and overwhelmed by passion.

After making sure Mal found the bathroom safely and giving his Mother a few moments before he checked on her, he was wrenched by an overwhelming desire. He went into Cruella's parlor and approached the portrait of her in her finest Dalmation coat that she had commissioned and shipped all the way from her original home back in Aurodon. Upon removing it, he leaned his head towards the hole in the wall he had drilled in case a situation should ever arise. He could see vividly on the other side and his heart quickened when he saw her. Mal was getting ready for a shower. She reached her arms up and stretched, her dirty white t-shirt riding up and exposing her pale, smooth midriff. Carlos's pulse grew faster. She slowly removed her shirt, exposing a white bra that had long since been in need of replacing. The wire had been repaired a few times and resewed with blue thread on the left, red on the upper right. Carlos turned his head to think. Mal didn't sew with that precision. Evie must have done it; she was great at sewing when she happened upon thread from time to time.

Spying on Mal was decidedly immoral, but so much had been denied to Carlos in his short life and at this point, he didn't care. What more could they do to him? What more could…Mother do to him? He returned his gaze back to Mal, unaware of how much time had passed. She had already doffed her pants and undergarments and was stepping into the shower. Carlos's eyes widened as he saw her back riddled with scars and cuts, some fresher than others. He rolled up his own sleeves and saw the scars covering his arms, with two burn marks that Cruella had given him with her curling iron. He closed his eyes. It couldn't happen again…not Mal…not to Mal…He wouldn't let her.

No…Mal is resourceful, Mal is smart. He didn't know why she was here, but if Cruella attacked her, Carlos secretly wished that Mal would survive and come out victorious.

Carlos put back the painting and entered his mother's room and saw her silhouette still in bed, not moving. He inched closer in the darkness, careful not to disturb her.

"Get that whore out of my house," said the voice in a cold rasp.

"Sh-shes not a whore, Mother," said Carlos in a soft voice.

"Get her out or I'll skin her like I did those puppies," added the voice from the bed.

"I won't let you do that," said Carlos, defiantly.

"Well now…getting big for your britches, eh boy?" mocked the voice from the bed.

Carlos stood his ground, though he was always nervous when his Mother laughed.

"Come closer, boy…" she whispered, "Listen to me carefully…"

Carlos moved slowly and silently, a creeping fear enclosing upon him. Once he had his left ear to her lips did the message become sparkling clear.


	6. Chapter 6- Cruella DeVil

Derranged

Chapter 6- Cruella DeVil

"To see her is to  
Take a sudden chill  
Cruella, Cruella De Vil"

Mal had gotten out of the shower, dripping wet when she realized that she would have to unfortunately don her old, ragged, mud stained and odious clothes. Just when she unfolded her overly large faded orange towel, she noticed that something tucked into it. It was a short purple dress, in a skater skirt fashion. Curious, she slipped it on and found that it was just about the right size! She didn't know where Carlos acquired this dress, but she didn't care. It was wonderful!

She put her boots back on and observed herself in the mirror to finish drying off her hair. She was too preoccupied with the feeling of being clean drying herself that she didn't notice the shadows of two feet on the other side of the door. The figure on the other side was breathing heavily, as they often did when preparing for what needed to be done. It was not something to be taken lightly.

In a flash, the door swung wide open and a figure screeched and lunged at Mal. The large figure wielded a large silver dagger in it's left hand. Mal dove to the left and the dagger plunged into the mirror, shattering it into pieces. Instintively, Mal grabbed a large shard and took off into the hallway.

Mal turned back for the briefest of moments to see assailant from the back. The large white coat with black and white spots, the red leather gloves and black and white hair.

Cruella DeVil herself!

Run, run, run! Mal thought to herself as she fled down the hallway. She ran to the front door but it was bolted shut and it looked as if it had been locked with a key…from the inside! The figure was in the hallway now, darkness hiding her face and the moonlight outside illuminating bared white teeth. Mal took no chances as she dodged to the right and skipped steps as she ran up the stairs, trying each door and seeing if there was a secondary exit. Each and every door was locked except for one that was open just a crack. She fled inside and slammed the door shut.

"Whore! Filthy little whoreeee!" screeched the voice from the outside, "You'll die just like your Mother! In a pool of blood, disgusting and unloved! I'll skin youuuu. I'll skin you like those puppiessss." They banged on the door, kicking harder and harder until Mal was terrified that the door would come off its hinges. She was much stronger than she looked, especially for someone that Carlos claimed was on the verge of depression and death from inactivity. Perhaps Carlos was wrong.

Carlos! Where was he? She hadn't seen him since before she was going to take a shower. Wait, she thought, did Carlos tell Cruella that she was here? Oh no, she thought, please let this not be true. Mal didn't have many friends, and she hoped she could count on Carlos to help her.

Mal surveyed the bedroom to get her bearings. It looked old, antique in the sense that whomever occupied this room was born in another time. The walls were faded bloodred, black lace curtains covered not just the window, but each part of the elaborate bedframe. The bed was decorated in pink bows and the frame of the bed and table was black lacquer wood frame in elaborate designs. A telephone, redundant on an island that had no telephone lines to make calls, was on the nightstand. It was a rotary phone and beside it was an overfilled ashtray with one single smoldering cigarette in a black plastic holder perched on it. There was a figure tucked under the covers in the bed, immobile and silent.

"Carlos?" whispered Mal as she stepped closer. The closer she got, the stronger the pungent odor got. It was faint in the air when she entered the room, but the heavy smell of floral perfume masked the potency. There were a few candles illuminating the dark room, not bright enough for Mal to make out the figure in the bed. She grabbed one of the candelabras from the night stand and held it to the figure.

She screamed when she realized what was in the bed. She couldn't stop shaking, desperately trying not the drop the candle at once. It was a corpse! The high cheek bones, the nicotine stained teeth, the frail frame…

It was Cruella! From the looks of things, she had been dead for years. Wait, thought Mal…if Cruella is here, then who is…"

The door flew open with a heavy kick, splinters of wood cascaded into the room. The figure stood in the doorway. Now that the figure faced Mal in the light, she could see the truth.

"Carlos?" asked Mal, shaking with fear.

"Why can't you leave my poor boy, my Carlos, alone?" asked the scratchy, feminine voice uttered from Carlos's lips.

"What happened, Carlos? Did you kill her?" asked Mal, trying desperately to think of anything that would snap him out of this.

"I can only imagine what she did to you," continued Mal, "My mother probably did the same to me. Scars…burns…they hate us and want to hurt us as much as they were hurt."

"I'd never hurt my boy…" continued Carlos, "I love my Carlos. Everything I did to him, he deserved it. Anything else, well…he probably needed it."

Carlos inched closer, hand gripping the knife until his knuckles were white. He moved swiftly and elegantly for a man in high heels. Mal guessed that he had much practice with this. How long had he been this way?

Mal gave up trying to reason with him and rushed him, trying to throw him off guard. He stepped aside with grace and tripped her. She fell down with full force and Carlos drove the blade deep into her thigh.

She screamed like she had never screamed before. Ignoring the pain for a split second, between tears streaming down her face, she remembered the mirror and drove it into Carlos's side. He matched her scream but not for the same reason.

"My coat!" he shrieked, "My perfect fur coat!" he screamed. Mal couldn't believe it. He really had become his Mother in every single way. Carlos, an unbelievable rage in his eyes, was suddenly upon Mal, flipping her onto her back and throttling her throat with his bare hands. Mal gagged and sputtered, flailing desperately to try to throw him off her, but his weight was too much for her and he overpowered her. The last word she attempted to utter was lost to the wind as one loud snap of her neck silenced Mal forever.


	7. Chapter 7- Clean Up

Derranged

Chapter 7- Cleanup

"This vampire bat  
This inhuman beast  
She ought to be locked up  
And never released"

Carlos awoke in his bedroom, shaking from a nightmare. Cold sweat had formed on his brow and he was breathing heavily. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. How long had he been asleep?

Suddenly, he sat up straight.

Mal!

He rushed out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. The tub was dry and the lights were off. Where was she? He thought to himself, panicking.

"No…no…no!" he cried as he shot up the stairs and threw open the door to his Mother's room.

Mal lay spreadeagle on the ground, blood at the corners of her lips and a dark impressions upon her pale neck. Carlos ran to her and held her close, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Mal! Wake Up!" he sobbed as he checked the pulse on her neck and wrists before placing his ear to her heart.

Nothing. Mal was as cold as ice and her heart ceased to beat. Her right thigh had a puncture wound in it, a trail of blood had flowed out of the wound and stained the bearskin rug at the foot of Mother's bed.

"I told you, boy…" whispered an icy voice from the bed, "I told you not to bring her here. Now look what you did."

Carlos dropped Mal's corpse and stood up to face her, his face getting redder.

"I'll get you for this, Mother. You terrible- you horrible-" he started. He was working hard to keep his hands from shaking, so he clenched them into fists. Mother was not afraid of him.

"Go on, but I suggest you watch your tone, Carlos. This was just an accident. This filthy girl couldn't stand to live as a slut and murderer anymore, so she decided to just end it all here. She killed her mother and then tried to seduce you. I had a conversation with her and you can see the end result here."

Carlos was muttering to himself in the darkness and pulling at his hair.

"What are you whispering, boy?" she asked, an irritated tone in her voice.

"I'm a sickly old woman. I can't hear what you're saying, but I can imagine that it's you trying to figure out how to dispose of the body, which I suggest you do at once. Aurodon's Imperial Guard have been making passes by the place. I can see them outside my window. It would be a shame for them to take you away. After all...you killed Mal."

"No!" shrieked Carlos, "That's a lie!"

"Whom do you think they are going to believe?"

Carlos spent the majority of his evening doing everything in his power to erase all evidence of the crimes. The carpet, regrettably, was rolled up and brought the carpet down to his shack behind the house. To make his situation worse, it began to storm over the area. It was if the Gods were upset at the loss of an innocent life. Mal didn't mean to kill her mother; it was an accident. Cruella meant to kill Mal the moment she stepped over into the DeVil property line. Mal's clothes were packed with the rug, and he had scrubbed the bathroom clean, twice. No trace of her was left here, not one single purple hair.

Disposing of Mal's body was the least difficult part of this whole process. Mal wasn't Cruella's first human victim. Carlos had experience with making bodies disappear, even on such a small island. Carlos was smarter than anyone on the island gave him credit for. That day on the beach, the last day that Carlos, Mal, Evie, and Jay spent together, gave him ideas for the future. When they all left, he began to experiment with the properties of the dome. He found out, after many attempts, that the dome was not impenetrable. Nothing could get in without special permission and nothing could get out, mostly. Their rocks didn't go though, but Carlos experimented with much bigger objects.

When he was 13, he was able to commandeer a rowboat. He pushed himself off the shore and toward the dome. He was not surprised that he didn't get through the dome, but he was surprised that the front of the boat went through the dome. It went halfway until the edge of the dome hit Carlos and stopped the movement. It stood to reason that no living inhabitant of the island could escape, so the next trick was to see if something dead could make it past the dome. When Cruella killed Azula, some cute brunette homeless girl who was an illegitimate child of some nameless exiled villain, Carlos loaded her into his rowboat and deliberately drilled a hole into the bottom. The rowboat glided towards the dome, taking on an increasing amount of water. Carlos chewed his fingernails nervously as the boat grew closer and closer. Upon reaching the dome, the rowboat creeped to a halt. Carlos's eyes grew wide as he prayed and prayed for the boat to continue. After what felt like ages, the rowboat made it completely through the dome before it sunk completely, taking Azula with it. He had weighed her down with rocks to ensure she would stay with the ship. It seemed like Mal would now be taking a similar journey.

He loaded up all evidence of Cruella's latest crime into another rowboat that he stole from the Goblins. Before loading up Mal, who had grown completely pale, Carlos stopped to move a strand of purple hair from her face. He teared up looking down at her. With nothing but the pale moonlight illuminating the dark shores of the island, he was naught but a silhouette against the choppy black waves. He bent down and stole one last kiss upon her frozen lips. He placed her into the boat, adjusting her arms over her a single dead flower that the found along his journey here.

Just like the last time and the time before that, he used Mother's knife to poke a hole into the boat and he pushed it to the edge of the dome. He should have been stronger from all the heavy lifting his Mother sent him, but this boat seemed like the heaviest of all. How long could he keep this up? How long could he keep killing for Mother?

As Carlos saw Mal drift slowly into darkness, he saw the boat descend into the pitch black waves and disappear forever. He looked behind him, a mile away, to the faint orange glow coming from Mother's window. It ends tonight, he said to himself. Mother will be joining Mal very soon.


	8. Chapter 8- Fakim

Derranged

Chapter 8: Fakim

Fakim, second and favorite son of Razul, was tasked with keeping peace on the Isle of the lost. He was a great burly man with jet black hair and a short, neat beard. He was well versed in seeing how things run normally so he could pick out inconsistencies and investigate what caused them to fall out of line. In a dredged society such as this, a drunkard that suddenly gives up alcohol is a cause for concern. They fell out of line; a crooked one, but a line nonetheless.

The Goblins had reported that Maleficient had stopped drinking. She had not accepted any of the shipments that had passed through her way. She didn't bother to lower down the drawbridge so that they could deliver her the supplies. Though Fakim did not condone consumption of ill-made liquor on the island, he understood that it was a coping mechanism for this godforsaken place.

Fakim and his three underling guards entered Maleficient's castle, armed and ready with their scimitars. Not a sound was being made here, though later piercing winter wind added an eerie sub layer to the erode the stillness. The kitchen was stone cold, as were the living quarters. Her daughter, Mal, was nowhere to be seen. Fakim had Mal on file as well. Tormented youth, age 19, and endured years of abuse under her mother. Fakim had more sympathy than his father, but it was easily stowed away and was brought out on only special occasions. Fakim felt a particular amount of sorrow for the youth, but it fell short next to the logic of the situation. Her mother should have known better than to raise a child here. Nevertheless, Mal existed, and therefore, she should be here and accounted for.

"Fakim!" cried Hazarath from the dungeon chambers. Fakim rushed down to the dungeon, taking note of the designs in the floor and searching for hidden traps that Maleficient used as safeguards. He found none as he descended the stone staircase to see the subject of Hazarath's cries. Maleficient lay motionless in a pool of dried blood at the base of the staircase. Studying the injuries up close, one could make the argument that she was pushed to the ground and cracked her skull wide open. One could also make the argument that she slipped and fell. She smelled of cheap alcohol and she was gangly, fragile. It wouldn't have taken much to push her down and it didn't appear that she was in a massive struggle.

A scrap of faded lime green fabric was held in the shackles along the back wall. From his initial observations of the Isle's inhabitants, he recognized this color and fabric matching that of Mal's jumper. It was one of her only three outfits, it seemed.

Fakim replayed the scene in his head. Mal was shackled to the wall as punishment, or an extension of Maleficient's irrational cruelty. Perhaps Mal fought back, Maleficient receiving a kick and then flying back, smashing her head along the cobblestone staircase. Perhaps… In any case, Mal must be located to provide Testimony to this case.

The entire day was taken up with searching for Mal. Each search proved inconclusive. She was gone and her clothes were too. Mal had fled, far from this place. Fakim was prepared to tear the island apart looking for her. Murders were few and far between on the Isle, after the Imperial Guards took over law enforcement. As he threw up his hands, belaying orders and making a plan, he didn't notice the figure watching him through the window. The figure was in the dark but could be made out to be wearing navy blue robes and a pale white mask over her face. Strands of black hair fell foreword over her bowed head. Her slender pale hands held the bards outside the window. She leaned in closer to catch every word. Her dark eyes grew wide when she heard the calls for Mal's arrest. Swiftly and silently, she disappeared from Maleficient's castle. She heard Fakim calling for help. She would need her own, now. She must find Mal before Fakim does. She didn't trust Fakim. She only trusted one man, and that is precisely where she was going now.


	9. Chapter 9- Jay

Derranged

Chapter 9- Jay

"A dirty no-good  
Down to the bone  
Your worst nightmare  
Can't take me home"

When an eligible suitor came to call upon the princess he chose to marry, Jafar, the Sultan's head advisor, had the guards drown the prince after throwing him off a cliff. Aladdin survived only because of the hidden magical lamp he had stowed away. He got lucky that time and his exposure of the wicked Vizier led Jafar down a path of self-destruction. He stole his way to power and gained the powers of a Genie but then found himself a slave to the lamp, imprisoned by the same street rat prince that he failed to kill that night by the cliff.

Jafar spent a great deal of time trapped in that lamp before King Adam plucked him out of the Cave of Wonders. He ordered Fairy Godmother to remove Jafar from the lamp and strip him of his Genie status. Jafar was just a normal man again and became one of the countless faces in the forced exodus to the Isle. He watched with dismay as the shimmering dome encased the island. He looked around to see the lamenting faces of his new neighbors.

Jafar had not learned anything from his years of confinement to the Isle. He still craved power and he didn't care whose life he had to destroy to get it. He began to steal and trade, marking up and marking down in order to secure proper profits. No matter how he twisted tales, he could not sell to people just as poor as he was. He was trapped in a perpetual cycle and there was no way out of it. His thievery led to his capture by the Imperial Guards when Jay was 16. His hands were cut off and he was left to rot in his dilapidated bungalow.

Jay recounted all of the decisions that had led him to this point in his life. He sometimes wished that King Adam had left his father to rot in that lamp. Jay realized that if that happened, he would not exist and he was fine with that, mostly. Jafar was a wicked, cruel man who was never satisfied with what he had; he always craved more. His avarice led him to this place and he took out his anger and frustration on the only thing he had that was actually his: Jay.

Jay was fitter than his father, agile and strong. He was the frontrunner and thief for his father's shop all of the years he was growing up. He gave up this life of crime when the Imperial Guards came to town. He knew that he couldn't run forever and there's little places you can hide on an island that is cut off from the rest of the world. Fakim seemed like a decent sort as long as you followed the rules. Jay saw first hand how the Imperial guards enforced the rules. Public flogging of Queen Grimhilde was brutal. This cruel Queen who held beauty above all else was completely shattered when she put her hands to the open wounds on her back. She gripped the torn fabric of her dress and watched as the blood stained the expensive threads. The scars would never heal properly on the Isle and no amount of makeup would take those away.

Jafar kept the business running while Jay thought of another way to make money. What few friends Jay had called him a coward for choosing to give up the life of thievery, but he did not need another example of law enforcement. He liked his hands exactly where they were.

Perhaps this was a chance for Jay to explore new avenues of creativity. As he guessed, Jafar was not accepting of Jay's new lifestyle but he was unaware of how badly his father would take the news. Jafar beat him within an inch of his life, shattering the bones in his right leg and destroying Jay's left eye. His father left him a with a permanent limp and only one good eye that day. Jay thanks every day that he still had his right eye. He watched with satisfaction as Fakim dragged his hysterical Father into the Isle's center market two years later.

The stone courtyard in the direct center of the island had been used for public humiliation and punishment long before the Imperial Guards arrived and this was the spot where they would punish the guilty even today. For the crime of thievery, extortion, and various other nefarious crimes committed in the quest for power, Jafar had his hands removed with the warning that his next offense would cost him his head. He hunched over at the spot, tears running down his face and onto the tattered dirty garb he wore. He watched as Fakim placed his hands in a basket and secured them to a clip on his belt. Jafar looked at his bleeding stumps and began to scream in despair. Each of the onlookers watched with glazed expressions. Pain and suffering were everyday occurrences here on the Isle. The only thing noteworthy about that day's public punishment was that this handless, feeble, balding old man was once the most powerful sorcerer in all of the land. He was abandoned by everyone, especially his son.

Now at age 19, Jay sat in a bungalow of his own. He had not heard from his father in years, nor had he actively sought him out. Perhaps he bled out in is own home, or maybe he attacked the guards in an attempt to elicit a mercy kill. Jay didn't concern himself with these thoughts now. He just wanted to live in peace, but that peace that was about to be shattered as a sleek figure in black appeared behind him. The pale mask the figure wore glinted in the moonlight.


End file.
